The Landlady's Dragon
by LynstHolin
Summary: CRACK It's Sixth Year, and Draco is having a very, very bad time.


CRACK CRACK CRACK

Rating: T for some suggestiveness

...

The Aurors were both men in early middle age. One was tall and stout, and the other was short and wiry. The tall one sat across from the weeping Madam Rosmerta and gazed at her sympathetically. The other stood to one side, patting her shoulder and looking down her bodice. "I-I feel so used," Rosmerta sobbed.

"Ah, it's not your fault, ma'am," said the tall one. "You was under an Imperius. Young Malfoy may be just a boy, but them Slytherins is a nasty bunch, and his family..." He shuddered dramatically. "Scary."

"Scary," the other man echoed as he watched Rosmerta's bosom heave.

"I'm not going to Azkaban?" the proprietress of the Three Broom Sticks asked. She opened her eyes wide and fanned her face to dry her tears without smearing her mascara.

"Oh, no, no, no. Far from it."

A Patronus in the form of a greyhound zipped into the pub. "A group of Death Eaters has attacked Flourish and Blott's. Get to Diagon Alley right now," it said in a woman's voice.

The tall Auror shook his head soberly. "Nothing sacred any more."

"You two can drink here for free any time," Rosmerta said as she checked her face and bottle-blonde hair in the mirror behind the bar.

"I'll hold you to it, ma'am. Well, we must be off." As the men walked out the door, the tall one said to the short one, "Such a wonderful, sweet woman that Rosmerta is. There's not a person in the world who can say a word against her. Heart of gold, that one."

As soon as the men were gone, Rosmerta went into her back room. Rummaging through a desk, she pulled out a sheet of parchment. She sat down, uncapped her inkwell, and began to write:

_Darling,_

_I'm afraid I had to lie and tell THEM that you Imperio'd me. I'm sure you don't mind-it's not as if I could help you and your cause from Azkaban. I will do everything in my power to make it so that we can be together again, my love. You've only been gone a short while, but I ache for you._

_-R-_

...

Draco jumped a foot in the air when the owl pecked on his bedroom window. _Bloody hell_, he did not need that, not at a time when he had to worry about being eaten by Nagini, chomped on by Fenrir Grayback, violated by Scabior, or, ew, pawed at by the Dark Lord. Or asked to play dolls with his crazy aunt, who didn't take no for an answer. Malfoy Manor was full of the mad, the dangerous, and those who had no understanding of personal boundaries whatsoever. Draco hid in his room as much as possible, but people (or creatures similar to people) were always trying to get in. So Draco was, at first, inclined to ignore the owl.

But it was just a tiny little Elf Owl with a scrap of parchment folded in its beak. It couldn't molest him, or have him for dinner, or force him to participate in an imaginary tea party. Draco opened the window, and the tiny ball of feathers hopped onto the sill and dropped the letter into his open palm.

Unfolding it, Draco knew who it was from as soon as he saw the handwriting; the hearts dotting the I's were a dead giveaway. Was he never to be rid of the woman? Obsessed with him due to his resemblance to his father, Madam Rosmerta had Amortentia'd him, deflowered him, and tattooed her name on his left buttock, among other things. Convincing her to assist him in his attempts to kill Dumbledore didn't make him feel guilty in the least; the woman _owed _him, after what she'd put him through... over and over again.

Another owl landed on the window sill; a Great Barred Owl.

_Darling,_

_I miss you so much. Right now, I am naked and_-

Draco threw the letter on the floor and incinerated it with his wand.

Yet another owl arrived.

_Darling,_

_Please write back immediately. You know what happens when you ignore me._

_-R-_

_Darling,_

_You are making me very angry. If you don't write back, I'll get the voodoo doll out again._

_-R-_

Draco shooed all the owls away and slammed the window shut. There was a scratching at his bedroom door. "Drakie, Drakie, your Aunty-Bell wants to play again. I was in the attic, and I found a doll house with all the furniture still in it!"

Draco crawled into his bed and pulled the covers up over his head, hoping that, if Bellatrix was able to get the door open, she wouldn't be able to see him amongst the duvet and the down pillows. Another owl pecked at the window, and Draco pondered the feasibility of running away to Ecuador.


End file.
